I've Got Soul
by The Naked King
Summary: The first four chapters of the rough draft of Monolith. It's under revision already, but I figured I'd post it here just for fun. This is essentially the story of Pharaoh Atem, written without spoilers. These chapters outline the events before the actual events of "Millennium World". There are no pairings and there may be typos. Novelization. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**I've Got Soul**

_By TheNakedKing_

_Author's Note: This is part of The Monoltih Project and is the original rough draft of the first four chapters of Monolith. I appreciate feedback on this because I plan to rewrite as extensively as I can. _

In the course of saving the ones we love, sacrifices are oftentimes made.

It was something he had always been taught, that ruling would mean sacrifice and conscription to his duties. In becoming King he was not becoming the ruler of a people, but a symbol of a nation, its humble servant and protector. As much as they would try to shower him with glory, he must never accept it. Transversely, when things went wrong he would be the one to take the blame.

There were no shortcuts to be had in ruling. One must do it with dignity and grace.

In short, it required a sort of divine patience, longsuffering, and benevolence that would transcend the understanding of anything a normal person might experience.

When Khnum had fashioned Atem on his wheel, he must have forgotten to give him those specific traits.

At this point in time, Atem's fingers were rapping impatiently against the armrest of his chair, the sound echoing throughout the grand throne chamber, earning him glances from the priests. He tried to still himself, truly he did, but he could feel his interest waning even as his father proclaimed on another criminal.

He had seen this procedure ten times ten times before, perhaps more than that, and he knew exactly how it happened. He knew that the priests would perform before his father to drag the corrupted Ka Spirits out of the bodies of the criminal in an attempt to cleanse them. He knew that the aforementioned Ka Spirit would then be sealed within a stone tablet to be used by the priests themselves at a future date. And of course he knew that this was all accomplished through the use of the Millennium Item's, his father's crowning achievement and the very thing that had granted the nation its current level of peace and prosperity.

Atem simply could not bring himself to _care._

It took him a great deal of effort to even keep his eyes open, despite the fact that his father constantly harped to him about the importance of such ceremonies. He honestly did not see why it mattered. It was not as if the King **did **anything other than watch his priests do the job he should have been doing himself. If this was so important, why did his father play no part?

The drumming of his fingers stopped when a weathered palm grasped his wrist, forcing him to look up into the eyes of an unoccupied priest.

Ahkenaden started down into the Crown Prince's eyes with an expression on his face that was a clear mixture of annoyance and anger. Atem had known Ahkenaden his entire life, and wondered when the priest planned to retire since so many others had already handed on the legacy of their respective Items. If Ahkenaden retired that would be one less annoyingly paternal presence in his life, and with the way every elder male of proper rank within the boundaries of Thebes seemed to scold him for one thing or another, the idea was one the Prince could not help but court.

The look in Ahkenaden's one good eye, though, was enough to quell the Prince's restless fingers; at least for the time being.

Atem turned his attention back to the trial. Judgment was to be proclaimed upon a man who had secretly killed off all his wives in order to receive their property upon their deaths. It was a deplorable act, and Atem could almost see the corpses in his mind's eye. Had he been a richer man, the cost of embalming the women might have been more than what he had gained in killing them. It might have been a deterrent; seldom will the greedy act courageously.

His interest was soon lost again, however. The concerns of these people, though certainly valid and pressing, were not his job. He was young and should be utilizing his vitality instead of wasting his time here in the presence of priests and criminals. Did his father not constantly preach to him on not wasting these "good years"? Why, then, was he cooped up here instead of out making use of his energy?

Catching his eye of his father stopped any further thoughts of complaint on his part, though. When the King demanded that you pay attention that is what you did, even if the King was your father.

_**Especially **_if the King was your father.

That being said, the rest of the procession dragged on even more slowly than the first half, for without the luxury that daydreams had afforded him, every painful detail seemed to draw out the moments to an unnecessarily slow pace. Three farmers were cleared of all charges and investigations into the real perpetrators of their crimes were incited, though the murderer and a woman running a gambling scheme to cheat temple workers out of their wages did receive appropriate punishment.

When trial at last ended, Atem stood but did not dismiss himself. It was not his place. He stood at attention, awaiting his father's ascent for his departure, but instead received the dismissal of the priests.

Immediately, his heart fell.

Guards remained stationed at the doors, but the priests shuffled away, their robes rustling as they left Atem alone with his father, who sat upon his throne, looking very much as he always did to Atem. That was to say, ageless and perpetually disappointed in his son's performance.

The King was a harsh looking man with a sun worn face and dark brown eyes that commanded whatever remaining respect his considerable stature didn't already afford him. He looked nothing like his slender son, who right now stood in front of him, seeming fragile beneath the considerable weight of his gold. Atem felt abashed underneath his father's gaze, but he did not take his eyes away from that face.

He was the one person in the kingdom who could look his father in the eye and he would not balk at the challenge he was certain his father was presenting him with.

"You seem distracted," commented the king almost off handedly. "Tell me, what is so important that your mind wanders from your duty? Surely it must be substantially important for you to neglect your vital training?"

"I have no excuse," it was always best to be honest or it would come back to haunt him later.

Ever since his elder brothers had died, one in war the other in a hunting accident, his father had began to impose all his hopes of a proper king onto Atem. The results had run his son ragged more than once, but Atem doubted he noticed. These days he had less and less time to spare for Atem his son and more and more duties to relegate to Atem the Crown Prince.

Sometimes he missed his father, though right now was not one of those times.

"Then you mean to tell me that you have simply allowed your mind to drift whilst you were supposed to be heeding the words of the priests?" his father's voice was ever stern, and his eyes sharp with disappointment.

Atem might have been affected by that disappointment at one time, but now he had grown accustomed to it.

Sighing heavily, the King continued to speak down to his son. "You cannot keep this up any longer, Atem. It has been said to you again and again that you must take responsibility. Foolish men, men who are lazy and insolent, possess the kind of behavior you are currently exhibiting. You must quit this nonsense. I will not be alive forever … "

The prince understood that his father was not immortal. He could see it in the lines of his aging face, worn by sun, sand and time. His father had reigned for 40 long years, and though he was getting older he was still very strong. Atem could not imagine his father dying any time in the near future.

He could not argue with his father, for he was King. Atem humbly accepted his judgment with a bow of his head and words of hushed agreement, though he could tell his father did not believe him. Atem did feel a bit guilty, and promised himself that he would attempt to pay more attention next time.

"Very well. You are dismissed," his father slouched a bit in his throne, though it was barely noticeable. He looked tired. "You are going fishing with your friends, correct?"

"I am, Majesty."

"Please, promise me you will be careful," in the lines around his father's eyes Atem could see the anguish the King still suffered over the death of his sons. "Remember how your brother died."

"I will not be reckless, my King," Atem muttered, unable to begrudge his father this concern. Sometimes the image of the mutilated corpse of his brother, distorted beyond all recognition, still gave him nightmares. "I promise you that your son will return alive."

The look Atem received then reminded him of the way his father had been before the death of his brothers. Those eyes were kind and filled with concern, and he fondly recalled the days before he was in line for the crown, when he and his father would play sennet and speak of the future. It was so different now, with the expectation that he would rule the kingdom upon his shoulders.

Without another word, his father waved his hand and dismissed him.

After a simple bow, Atem swept from the room, his heart still heavy with the weight of his father's words. He missed those simpler days, but as he walked ever onward his mood was lightened by the prospect of escaping his responsibilities for a few days.

This trip with his friends had been long in the planning, and it had been difficult to get his father to agree, all things considered, but it would do him good. He needed to be away for awhile, to refresh his perspective on the world, and this brief hiatus from his life and training were his best chance at doing this.

The preparations, which he had seen to himself, should already be complete, and his friends should be waiting for him. They were all noble boys that he had gone to school with in The House of Life. He had spent years with them and they were his friends, people who he could laugh and relax with, even if his rank was higher than theirs. As it was, it had been far too long since he had seen them.

Speaking of which …

At the end of his trek down the hall he saw them, the three of them standing and laughing together. When they saw him they waved him over, quickly explaining to him about their escapades with a servant girl that they apparently found incredibly attractive. Atem laughed when they mentioned how their task master had yelled at them when he had noticed, and could almost imagine the man's line of reasoning in postponing their punishment until after the trip.

He supposed that canceling the Crown Prince's fishing trip was not an excellent idea.

"This will be wonderful," Maya laughed, his arm still lingering around Nebwawi's shoulder. "My father was so happy when you invited me. Of course he is thinking of future political gain."

"Never mind him, Maya," Senunmut, who hung a little to his brother's right, interjected. "Father has no idea what Prince Atem is actually like, nor does he understand that this trip is no political meeting."

"Just a friendly outing," Nebwawi said with an easy grin. "Correct, Prince Atem?"

"Of course. I can't imagine why I would want to take politics with me when I deal with them every day otherwise," Atem crossed his arms over his chest. "Are you all prepared? Our supplies are meeting us at the gates."

Maya dropped his arm and scuttled after Atem, who had already set out, Sen by his side. Neb was not far behind them.

The three of them were a bit strange at times, but Atem was certain every official's son was somewhat eccentric. They had trained together for years and the three of them were amiable and good hearted, better friends he could not have asked for. He would rather spend his time with them than almost anyone else.

Soon enough they reached their supplies, enough for a few days of fishing not far from here. It was not as if they would be into the howling wild, for his father had forbidden such an expedition, so they would be close enough to society if something happened. Atem did not think that he should be difficult to find should his father need to contact him for any reason.

As they received their goods, Atem caught the eyes of Priest Set, who had apparently wandered out here, perhaps specifically to spy on him. Set's attitude had always annoyed him, but Atem tried his best to ignore it. They, too, had been raised together, though Set was a few years older than he was (something Set had always seen to it that he knew in one way or another). He had also made a point of constantly attempting to outperform Atem in anything and everything they did together, a habit that was annoying, if somewhat useful, since the competition had ways of making him try harder.

Turning his eyes away from his childhood rival, Atem turned away and walked through the gates with his friends.


	2. Chapter 2

**I've Got Soul**

_By TheNakedKing_

The day Set came to fetch him was as calm as any other, the sky peerless, the waters where they fished surprisingly calm. It was the time of the year when the floods were still a half a year away, and though it was perhaps not the best time to fish, it was a good opportunity to catch up with friends. And besides, the River always seemed to have an abundance of life to harvest.

All the good weather in the world could not have quelled the storm in his heart the moment he saw the Priest and his company pass over the nearest rise.

"Prince Atem?" Sen asked, his eyes filled with concern. "What is he doing here?"

"I can only imagine that His Majesty sent him to fetch me," was his muttered response. "I wonder what has happened for them to send Priest Set?"

He would have his answer soon, though not the specifics. The look on Priest Set's face told him that it was not simply bad, but possibly catastrophic.

Atem had the increasing feeling that this something was potentially life shattering when he saw signs of mourning in the clothing of both the soldiers and the Priest. He swallowed his trepidation, though, and faced the escort with his jaw held high. "You have come to fetch me?"

"Your Majesty," Set bowed his head. "I am afraid that I have some terrible news. You must return to Thebes immediately, for your country needs you in this dark time." There was a slight hesitance, and Atem wondered what could possibly cause it, as Set seldom hesitated to say anything. "The King has passed away, and His Highness must come to fill the void which his passing has caused."

His insides felt frozen, and the heat of the sun barely registered against his skin as he stared at Set in absolute mortification, attempting to recover.

No.

Not possible.

His father couldn't be dead.

He couldn't be …

As if punctuating the horrific situation, Atem felt his friends draw away from him in sudden, unwanted, reverence.

Struggling to still his shaking hands and breathe evenly, Atem battled to find his voice. When at last he spoke, he sounded more confident than he felt. "Yes. We must make haste. We cannot allow the power void to be filled by the unworthy."

He still did not believe. He did not think he would until he saw his father's body lying before him, motionless and cold. It seemed too surreal to possibly be true, and he unconsciously shivered at the thought, his mind reeling with the reality of his current situation.

King.

He was king.

And not just any king.

The thought chilled him to his very core, and as he looked behind him to see his friends – no, his subjects – shuffling along behind him he realized that he would never go fishing with them again. Every lesson his father had ever tried to each him, every moment he had ever realized his father was truly separate from other people, suddenly came crashing down on him, drowning him with its impact.

Suddenly he was very much alone, even though he was surrounded by people.

He felt naked in the light of what he had to do now.

"We should make it back to the palace post haste, Exalted One," Set proclaimed. "Soon you will be able to calm the hearts of your people. Your presence alone shall sooth the nation, as they will be able to look upon their future ruler with their own eyes."

Atem eyed him before nodding. "Of course, Priest Set. I wouldn't dream of letting my people down in any capacity."

He couldn't afford to.

His father had been a great leader and he could not rightfully expect the people, his father's people, _his_ people to demand any less from him.

The trip seemed to go quickly, perhaps because Atem was so numb he could no longer feel his own fingers, though he could see his knuckles, clenched tight, white with strain. Not even the looming city in the distance made his heart rush more quickly. He felt as if he were outside of his own body, watching this scene unfold from somewhere beyond the confines reality.

Even as the palace itself came upon them and he could see the officials pooling to greet him. All of them were clamoring, attempting to speak to him, but he just waved them off, eyes locking onto the only person in the multitudes he cared to see.

"Where is he?" he demanded, his voice more authoritative than he ever though it could have sounded.

Siamun, his father's wizened vizier, bowed and lead him from the midst of the court.

He was glad to leave them, to retreat into the halls he knew so well that he now walked them without thinking about it. All those people only wanted a piece of his power, something he did not care to give people who could not even properly grieve his father.

It was to his father's chambers that Siamun lead him, never saying a word. No one else followed them except a few guards that Atem barely noticed; their presence a footnote in his life.

Siamun opened the doors.

Atem found himself looking upon his father, completely motionless. He had seen the stillness of death before and there was no doubt in his mind that his father had passed on. Of course, preparations would have to be made, but first …

"Siamun, allow the women to grieve," he turned around. "I will go and speak with the priests about transporting his body on the morrow. It should not tarry here any longer than it has to. We must not delay his journey."

And without another word he left the room.

The guards continued to shadow him.

He supposed to made sense. After all, his father had died, which made him the King. He had been training for this for years and now, and he could handle this. He would bury his father and then … Then … On the first day of the new season …

He could see his father's priests up ahead, gathered and speaking in whispered tones. As he approached he could see them straighten and stand at attention, bowing in reverence.

"My predecessor has gone to be united with Osiris," he said. "I ask that preparations be made to convey his body tenderly to the embalmers. Great care must be taken in preparing him for his journey," Atem spread his hands in emphasis. "However, we must also give the women time to mourn him. Tomorrow is when your transport begins."

"Your majesty, you have my word that it will be done as you say."

Atem blinked.

The familiar voice made Atem realize he was speaking to Priest Mahaddo, the Millennium Ring hanging about his neck. His face, as always, was unreadable and stern, but Atem thought he caught the stirrings of some feeling with his eyes. Regret?

It didn't matter.

Atem had things he must do.

"I trust you, Priest Mahaddo," Atem said. "I ask that you treat him with respect. Now, you must pardon me … I have a full day ahead of me … "

And indeed he did. Atem saw to everything he had need to, and it had come easily to him as well. He had not truly realized until that moment just how well his training was ingrained into his consciousness, for they came easily to him. He was able to quell the chaos that his father's death has created and earn himself a good night's rest.

If he had earned this, why did sleep elude him?

He flipped over onto his side, shivering again, though not from the cold of the night. It felt as if his entire world had been shattered as he realized that his father, the man who had given him everything, was dead.

Truly dead.

He would never come back.

Anguish as piercing as a blade ripped through his body, the reality of his situation finally crashing down on him with terrible finality.

His father was dead …

His father was dead and he was king.

Tears stung his eyes and his shaking grew violent as he buried his face into his sheets, trying to stifle the sobs that threatened to break from his lips. His father was dead and he could never come back, not ever.

And he was king.

King.

The word sit like a bad taste in his mouth, and for the first time Atem truly understood the weight of that title. It was duty and responsibility, and the keeping of the very balance of the universe. Being king meant holding the weight of the world upon your shoulders, and it meant making decisions for entire legions of people.

More than anything, though, it meant standing alone.

He choked back the noises he was making, balling his fists and biting down hard on the inside of his mouth.

He tasted blood.

Kings did not cry. They were not weak and did not need to grieve. They were divine and above the petty emotions that held normal humans within their grasp. He couldn't let anything sway him … There could be no room for sorrow …

Finding himself restless he stood, pacing the length of the room in an attempt to push any such thoughts from his mind.

Again and again he chanted the mantra that kings were not weak.

It wasn't working.

Instead of getting better, it was getting worse, and the more he thought on it the angrier he became. It was building up, trapped like hot air in a pot, and bound to break eventually.

Finally he could hold it back no longer.

Atem grabbed the first thing that came in sight, a stool that sat next to a gaming table, and threw it as hard as he could at the wall. The noise it made was loud, and to Atem it was very satisfying. He watched it clatter to the floor before grabbing something else to throw, each clatter or bang releasing more of his pent up sorrow and aggression.

At last he stood alone amidst the wreckage of the bedroom, collapsing into an exhausted pile on the floor. He hadn't really realized how much the effort of being angry had exhausted him, but now that he was left with only a dull aching in his heart and a prevailing sense of numbness, he realized just how tired he truly was.

He could have curled up into a ball and slept on the floor, but that would have been undignified and kings did not do things that provided that kind of impression. Strength was not in tears nor was it in sleeping on floors, so despite the fact that his muscles protested, or that his eyes were sore with unshed tears, he forced himself to stand.

It was slow, deliberate, and he decided to put his room back in order. It would do no good to project disorder to the outside world. It went against his duty as king. So it was that he carefully replaced everything, making sure it looked more than presentable.

Only after that was finish did he finally make his way to bed, where he lay on his side, staring at the wall, feeling exhausted. It was not long before he finally slipped into a fitful sleep destined to be plagued by shadows of things that should have been but now could never be.

His last thoughts were something akin to regret and resentment.


	3. Chapter 3

**I've Got Soul**

_By TheNakedKing_

The sound of the door opening is what finally drew him from the depths of his slumber, and he sat, rubbing his eyes. He had not really bothered to properly prepare for bed the night before, so his hands came away black with kohl, and he groaned.

What a mess he was.

"You look quite exhausted, my son."

He looked up from behind his fists, staring in shock at his mother, who leaned against the door frame. She looked quite tired, and very fragile, as if the slightest pressure might shatter her. When had she grown so old? She had not looked that way yesterday, surely.

"Mother … "he said, standing, trying to straighten his linens in a truly futile attempt to appear presentable before her. "Did you sleep well?"

She hesitated, shaking her head and walking toward him. "No I did not. But I do not think anyone in the whole of the palace slept well." She stood before him, placing her hand on the side of his face; they were alone so he did not have a problem with the display of affection. "You know you caused quite the commotion last night?"

He felt his brow furrow. "I did?"

She smiled and patted his face fondly. "Oh my dear boy, you are King now, are you not?"

He nodded.

"Then why did you go to the chambers of a Prince? This is not your room," she mussed his hair and he frowned. He had always hated when she did that. It was messy enough without her assistance. "The Priests were looking for you, and when they could not find you they asked for my assistance. After all, who knows the King better than the Queen Mother?"

He sighed and pulled away, walking back over to sit upon the edge of his bed. "I had forgotten … It seems I came here upon instinct."

"I know, my dear," she sat beside him. "No one is upset with you."

Rather, they could not afford to be upset with him. No one would dare tell the King what he was doing incorrectly.

At least not directly.

She took his hand, which he had not noticed had been clenched upon his knee. "Would you like for me to call your servants?" she asked, unclenching his fingers.

"I … "he shook his head, trying to remind himself to be deliberate. There was no time for hesitation. "I would thank you, Mother."

She had not been the Great Royal Wife, though Atem did not think that made her any less qualified for the position which she now found herself in. He just hoped she would be able to handle the strain now placed upon her. It was a selfish wish in part, because he did not want to lose her as well. The Queen Mother … one of the most powerful women in the country …

She knew how to handle herself. She would be fine. It was not as if she was unfamiliar with the duties that her new position entailed.

That is what he told himself.

It made him feel better about putting her in a position where her birth might be ridiculed.

He watched as she exited the room, calling some men to come attend to him. He would have to see to it that he had a personal servant, though the idea of constantly being shadowed by others was not something that personally appealed to him. Then again, he was the cornerstone of his nation. If they wanted to ensure his safety, he had no right to complain.

He had no heir … And his death could upset the balance of the universe if there was not someone to fill the power void.

Which reminded him of one more duty he had to fulfill, though it was not one he was too concerned with at the moment.

Right now, there were more important things on his mind. Things he would have to fight to settle with the Priests of Amun.

He watched as the servants arrived, carrying water basins and a variety of other things that he would need for the day; gold and new linens among them. Before the officials he would be the highest modicum of a King. He would more than embody all of their expectations, he would exceed them.

"Wash me," he commanded, allowing no room for doubt in his tone.

The men bowed and moved to do his bidding, one soaking a cloth with which to wipe his face clean, the other moving to set out the things that he would be wearing that day. Normally he might have had more of a choice, but as he had mistaken which room was his own, it seemed someone had decided for him. Likely it was one of the Priests.

Atem simply tried to enjoy the sensation of being taken care of, of water against his skin, and of clean linen drying him. He did not let his mind wander too far from what was happening at the current time, simply enjoying himself, even when the time came to apply the kohl, making them dark again.

Before he knew it Atem stood, draped in more gold than he could ever remember wearing in his entire life, and he found that he felt very heavy. It was odd, awkward even, when he moved, for he felt encumbered by the extra weight, but he must have looked impressive, for the way people stared at him.

Good.

Perhaps he would leave an impression.

They were waiting for him, the Six Chosen Priest, Siamun, and the Priests of Amun. As he had expected, his mother also sat in attendance, but all of them bowed when he entered, showing him the proper respect. He swept past them without a word and sat upon the throne that awaited him, crossing one leg over the other. Looking out upon the faces of the assembled, he began to think of all the things he might say to convince them that he was the one who was right.

He decided upon the direct route.

"I will not have a co-regent."

He could see them ripple at the declaration. At this point he cared very little for their feelings, wishing them simply to understand that he wouldn't he relegated to second place simply because of his age.

Against his will, his gut churned when he realized the new season was almost upon them, and it was at that time he would be coronated. It made him shiver. By the time his father was interred he would truly and fully be king …

"Are you … quite certain that for the best, My King?"

Atem looked to Ahkenaden, the longtime guardian of the Wedju Shrine, who was bowed low in respect. It was quite bold to speak out, but he was an elder member of the court. For as long as Atem had been alive Ahkenaden had been there, so he was quite experienced. And in any case he had been close to his father, a brother, if you would.

"I would not have said it were I not positive," Atem replied. "I was trained for this. I am able to do it on my own."

He saw the priests exchange glances, except, of course, for Set, who looked utterly unsurprised at the announcement.

It figured. Had Set ever been surprised at anything Atem did?

And then it occurred to him for the first time exactly what Set was, though he had never noticed it before. Sharp minded and with an impressive resume, Set was a prodigy, and someone who could be, would be, a great ally to Atem. He had little doubt that if Set agreed with his plans, the others here would be swayed in time.

"It is my duty," he said. "It was given to me by the gods. How could I want anything else? I am their mouthpiece, no other man, and I will not be assisted with ruling through means of a co-regent. "

A silence befell them then, heavy as the night. Atem waited in anticipation, knowing that though his battle to be the sole ruler of the country would not be won today, who sided with him would decide very much whether or not he would win. He almost held his breath, though outwardly he remained very calm, his eyes falling upon each of the priests in turn.

Finally, Set broke the silence.

"His Majesty is very clever, more than his years would suggest," his eyes fell very pointedly to Ahkenaden. "Our most exalted King has a sharp mind and is more than capable of making wise decisions. Such a mind should not be suppressed."

"But I would point out that Priest Set is not much older than the Pharaoh himself," someone said, and there seemed to be a general murmur of consensus.

"I agree with Priest Set, however." All eyes fell to Mahaddo. "I have seen incredible things from our King. His potential is vast. Under the watchful eye of a Vizier and a strong council he could do remarkable things. I believe a co-regent would … severely limit the scope of his generous ability."

"Indeed," echoed Karim, a man far taller and more sculpted than any other in the chamber.

The Chosen Priests were slowly coming to his defense, and though their positions of power were new and rather unstable historically, one could not deny their importance. The priests of Amun's cult might not agree with them, but they could not help but acknowledge their influence. The Seven Items were vast in power and had saved the kingdom before Atem was old enough to remember, and their power was equal in influence to that of the most respected cult of Amun.

In truth they would argue this for days, but if the Chosen Priests did take his side …

It would bode well for him.

Atem watched as the pieces fell into place, more than pleased as the Chosen Priests came to his aide. He could see his plan being successful, unable to help the ghost of a satisfied smirk that graced his lips. This had gone better than he might have thought, than he ever could have hoped.

The meeting soon drew to a close and Atem went off with an escort to oversee other things that needed attention, though he made a distinct note to go and visit the harem later. If the sadness in his mother's eyes was any indication, the women would need him to be their strength for a long time to come. For the people who he had spent the first several years of his life in the presence of, it was truly the least he could do.


	4. Chapter 4

**I've Got Soul**

_By TheNakedKing_

At some point Atem had stopped keeping track of time. How long he had been ruling he did not know; only that the days blurred into weeks, and that today was the first day of a new season.

Today was the day of his coronation.

To say he was nervous would have been a lie. He was not nervous. Today would not practically change anything that had transpired as of late. Ruling without a regent, he would still fully be the young king of is country and no formal ceremony would change that.

This did not diminish the sense of anticipation he felt.

It was true that energy coursed through him. He could feel it, this sense of anticipation as he prepared to receive the Royal Ka. There would be no turning back from this point onward, not that he'd ever really had a true choice, but today seemed to make it final. Today drove it home.

Atem was King.

The weight of gold that he wore was something he had since become accustomed to, but looking at his reflection in the surface of the polished metal he had to admit shock. He raised his hand to it, surprised at how mature he looked draped in the regalia of a king. There was something in the set of his jaw; in the way his already sharp cheekbones were accentuated by the bangs that framed face that made him look almost fierce. Of course, his eyes looked quite sharp, especially with the way his diadem hung over his brow line, its wedjat eye proclaiming him protected of Horus more easily than anything else could. He couldn't remember ever looking like this in his entire life, but he couldn't say he was disappointed with the result.

"Are you prepared, Your Majesty?"

Atem turned to face his mother, who stood facing him. She looked proud, and very beautiful to the point where he was quite proud to claim her as the woman who gave birth to him. He could hardly believe that he now stood in front of her on his way to become king.

Gently, he covered her hands with his own and nodded. "I am ready, Queen Mother."

In the doorway stood Siamun, his father's Vizier and now his own, and the Six Priests of the Items. Atem took a breath and patted his mother's hand in parting, striding confidently toward his entourage.

They departed in complete silence.

Preparations were made and Atem soon held in his hands the offering he was to give to the god. He was to be claimed now, separated from normal human beings. He was the mouthpiece of the gods, and it was time he fully and truly accept the duty.

The trip to the temple was a short one, in which Atem lead the small procession of Priests, who paused only outside of the most holy of holies, the doors to that most sacred of places admitting only Atem now.

Atem and his offering.

Tonight he would join the revelers at the palace as a King, infused with the Royal Ka, but then was not now. Now was a time for prayer, for Atem in the silence and seclusion of the inner temple to face the creator god Amun.

Inside the inner sanctum of the temple it was dark, and so far away from the pylons, bustling with priestly activity, it was silent. He could see the shrine, inlaid with gold and precious jewels, shimmering in the orange-red glow of the torchlight, in front of it sat the Millennium Pendant, which he has last seen hanging upon his father's neck.

Now it was his to bear.

Gently, he kneeled before the shrine, opening the doors to stare upon the face of the god, whom he and the High Priests alone were allowed to see. The face was wise, though somewhat detached, but Atem was quickly beginning to realize the level of detachment that godhood required.

Offering to the god what he had brought, the finest of the things he could offer, Atem bowed his head low and offered his prayers to Amun before taking the leather cord of the Pendant in his hands.

For a long moment he simply stared upon it, meeting the gaze of the wedjat eye unflinchingly. Then, without another though otherwise, he slipped it over his head.

The world shifted.

A million whispers filled his head, and he found himself suddenly crouching on the ground in pain without any idea of how he had gotten there in the first place. Closing his eyes, he took deep breaths, attempting to fight the overwhelming intensity of the voices. They were many and they were great, and Atem could not pick from them one single strange until they began to subside and he was left with one, powerful voice that rang through his skull painfully.

"Son of the gods!"

Trembling, he rose to his knees, still unable to stand on his own. He braced himself against the floor, feeling pathetic upon his hands and knees. "I hear you!" he called, unable to completely keep the tremble from his voice.

He was in the presence of the divine.

"Still your beating heart," the voice encouraged. "You are not unworthy of those you stand in the presence of. If you were We would not allow you here."

Atem tried his best to control his breathing, not daring to look up.

"You are aware of your sacred duty," the voice continued, "and of the power of the Seven Items of the Millennium. You are truly our mouthpiece, young King, and with such a position comes precious knowledge."

He did not speak, only waited.

"Power is in the name of the gods," said the voice. "You have been blessed beyond all other men with glorious destiny. To you we give the privilege of control of the Spirit Beasts of this Sacred Triad – Amun, Osiris, and Ra."

His heart pounded within his chest as knowledge filled him, knowledge that had no logical origin other than that of the voice. Atem shivered, his mind recalling names and images he had never learned, and even though he had felt the presence fade he remained on the floor for a long moment, attempting to regain his senses.

He felt different.

Even as he stood on shaky legs he felt … odd. It was if magic suddenly coursed through him, and he realized now that his father had never actually been a passive watcher in all of those trials he'd been forced to witness. Magic … The Seven Items were truly magical in nature, and even now he was aware that the training he'd had would not be enough to teach him how to harness his newfound power.

He had received, in that moment, the Royal Ka, and the knowledge of the power that granted him was sobering in its weight.

For a long moment he crouched on the floor, unsure what to do, but he soon picked himself up and gathered his wits about him. With a deep and steadying breath, he turned around and walked from the room, every step deliberate. He did not blink into the light, though the sudden transition from dim to bright stung his eyes.

Outside the Priests waited for him, each examining him carefully. He paid them no mind and simply ushered them along. Now that the ritual was over, the procession and festivities could begin.

Once again noise greeted him in the form of the throng of the procession that awaited him as he exited the temple. A great cheer rose from the crowd, happy laughing and clapping, singing and dancing, but the noise was different from the voice of the god. It was a different sort of loudness that did not pierce his heart or shake his soul.

Still, looking into the faces of the people around him, young and old, male and female, noble and mercantile, Atem's heart grew lighter. The people had come out to see their new King and to join in the festivities, and they would not be disappointed.

The procession seemed to rush by as Atem was carried back to the palace, where he was quickly ushered to his throne. The proclamations of his worth then began, complete with royal titles and affirmations of his wonderful character. Well wishes were made that he should live long on this earth and that he should always be in good health, and many offered him wishes of wisdom and discernment, that the gods would be able to communicate to him the best way to administer Ma'at.

But for the most part it passed quickly, and Atem was mostly unaware of the proceedings. Too many questions yet swam through his mind, most of them centered upon this great destiny the god spoke of. What could be so significant that the gods would allow him the use of the names of their sacred Ka? It had to be important, grave even, if such a thing were to be allowed.

The thoughts would haunt him late into the night, even when he had at least retired to the repose of his chambers, lying upon the edge of the bed.

And he knew then that for the King there would never be true rest.


End file.
